I'm getting spoiled. In my mind, the beautiful, sunny and warm weather is here to stay. We can work outside, there will never be another mosquito to bother us, the plants will emerge, every Sunday will be as beautiful as this one!
Is there a problem with being overly optimistic?
Snowdrop woke up a bit on the early side, but she was in grand spirits and she let me tidy myself up before I went in to attend to her.
Her terrific spirits continued until the hour her dad came to take her home (and I'm sure beyond that) and so I had a morning of gloriousness pouring at me from all sides. If you expect drama or disarray -- forget it. It was a clear sailing type of day.
My post will be in three parts: the first will have several Snowdrop vignettes from her morning at the farmette, the second will be about working the farmette land with Ed, and the third will be a ramble on... well, I'll let it speak for itself.
Part I A Joyous Dance
She is up! I mean really up! From bed to high chair and let's not let that hold her back, she is UP!
Set free, she goes straight for the colored pencils. We draw. Snowdrop always gives me a page in her sketch notebook and keeps its twin for herself.
I ask her what she would like me to sketch. She says: candy cane! Say what? okay... She continues: and Snowdrop sitting in high chair holding candy cane!
I do not know where she gets some of her ideas.
We're holding off on our "real breakfast" until Ed wakes up . When he appears, she is so happy! Ahah is up! Ahah is up! Hi ahah!
Before we even sit down to breakfast, she wants him to join us in dance.
A happy, happy dance.
Ahah, you dance!
He never, ever tells her no.
Finally, our breakfast together.
And then Ed rushes out while the ground is still partially hard from the night frost. He wants to use the mini loader before we have total mud out there. And Snowdrop... well, she's hooked: she wants to watch him work the big machine. She wants to be outside!
Yesterday: scary loud monster machine! Keep me away! Today: exciting machine pushed by ahah to grow the flower bed. Let me watch!
Back in the courtyard, Snowdrop and I deal with the pesky cheepers, who want so much more attention now that their free ranging habits have clicked in again.
In the farmhouse again. She wants to ride her balance bike. I want my bike hat! Snowdrop, you don't need it inside. But I want my bike hat! Ask nicely. Please!
But in the end she sheds it. It's in the way when she rides the bike over to the table where "treats" are waiting for a "drive up" tea party!
I'll leave you with that photo. It's so.... Snowdrop.
Part II Teamwork
Even before I moved to the farmette, Ed and I had learned to work side by side trying to make something of the farmette land. I was very amused when he said today -- why don't we just turn this whole place into a hobby farm instead of clinging to the idea that it's a house with a big yard?
Wait, you mean you haven't been thinking of it as a hobby farm up until now? We're hobbyists. We experiment with various aspects of farm life!
I suppose it's how you look at what we do. Me, I've thought all along that we come up with endless new ideas, some thought out, others -- rather random and not altogether well construed -- and we ride out the wave of a growing season and witness what comes of it. Sounds pretty "hobbyist," no?
Here we are in a time release photo, February 19th, in shorts. Hobby farmers extraordinaire! (Be sure to read this as it was intended: with humor. I know we are quite amateurish in all that we do here.)
After working the front bed, chipping it, leveling it, making it ready for spring planting, we walk back to the young orchard. We planted nearly two dozen fruit trees back there and it has been such a hands-on experiment for us to watch them grow! For two years, the trees were attacked by deer. Finally Ed set to work on building cages for them. The trees are growing now, despite the early years of damage. We are so thrilled with their "can do" attitude!
We spend a productive hour pruning the branches, hoping that doing this on a warm February day is a good rather than totally foolish thing.
Part III A Walk Before Sunset
I spent just about all my childhood summers in my grandparents' home in the deep Polish rural countryside. When I was little, I mostly played in the yard of course. But very quickly, I looked beyond the fenced yard. The river, the meadows, the forests -- they became my playground.
And not surprisingly, I was granted a lot of freedom early on. In the (American) suburbs, you need your parents and their car(s) to get you places. In the more remote villages of Poland, we had neither the paved roads nor the cars to get us places. We walked. A lot.
My sister and I often teamed up with other kids from adjacent homes to do an evening walk just before the sun reached its final dip to the west of us. These walks were so important to my adolescent sensibilities that I remember to this day the light, the quiet, the color, the peace that we felt then.
And so you wont be surprised that when today, as Ed finished up work with the rental loader machine and I walked the rural roads, I was reminded of that special light, not February light, but evening light, nearly sunset light, Polish light, familiar light that seeped in with that beautiful predusk quiet that I associate so much with the fields and meadows of Poland.
(Fields just to the east and north of us...)
(Nearly sunset...)
So goodnight, Sunday. Goodnight crazy warm weekend. So bold. So beautiful!
Is there a problem with being overly optimistic?
Snowdrop woke up a bit on the early side, but she was in grand spirits and she let me tidy myself up before I went in to attend to her.
Her terrific spirits continued until the hour her dad came to take her home (and I'm sure beyond that) and so I had a morning of gloriousness pouring at me from all sides. If you expect drama or disarray -- forget it. It was a clear sailing type of day.
My post will be in three parts: the first will have several Snowdrop vignettes from her morning at the farmette, the second will be about working the farmette land with Ed, and the third will be a ramble on... well, I'll let it speak for itself.
Part I A Joyous Dance
She is up! I mean really up! From bed to high chair and let's not let that hold her back, she is UP!
Set free, she goes straight for the colored pencils. We draw. Snowdrop always gives me a page in her sketch notebook and keeps its twin for herself.
I ask her what she would like me to sketch. She says: candy cane! Say what? okay... She continues: and Snowdrop sitting in high chair holding candy cane!
I do not know where she gets some of her ideas.
We're holding off on our "real breakfast" until Ed wakes up . When he appears, she is so happy! Ahah is up! Ahah is up! Hi ahah!
Before we even sit down to breakfast, she wants him to join us in dance.
A happy, happy dance.
Ahah, you dance!
He never, ever tells her no.
Finally, our breakfast together.
And then Ed rushes out while the ground is still partially hard from the night frost. He wants to use the mini loader before we have total mud out there. And Snowdrop... well, she's hooked: she wants to watch him work the big machine. She wants to be outside!
Yesterday: scary loud monster machine! Keep me away! Today: exciting machine pushed by ahah to grow the flower bed. Let me watch!
Back in the courtyard, Snowdrop and I deal with the pesky cheepers, who want so much more attention now that their free ranging habits have clicked in again.
In the farmhouse again. She wants to ride her balance bike. I want my bike hat! Snowdrop, you don't need it inside. But I want my bike hat! Ask nicely. Please!
But in the end she sheds it. It's in the way when she rides the bike over to the table where "treats" are waiting for a "drive up" tea party!
I'll leave you with that photo. It's so.... Snowdrop.
Part II Teamwork
Even before I moved to the farmette, Ed and I had learned to work side by side trying to make something of the farmette land. I was very amused when he said today -- why don't we just turn this whole place into a hobby farm instead of clinging to the idea that it's a house with a big yard?
Wait, you mean you haven't been thinking of it as a hobby farm up until now? We're hobbyists. We experiment with various aspects of farm life!
I suppose it's how you look at what we do. Me, I've thought all along that we come up with endless new ideas, some thought out, others -- rather random and not altogether well construed -- and we ride out the wave of a growing season and witness what comes of it. Sounds pretty "hobbyist," no?
Here we are in a time release photo, February 19th, in shorts. Hobby farmers extraordinaire! (Be sure to read this as it was intended: with humor. I know we are quite amateurish in all that we do here.)
After working the front bed, chipping it, leveling it, making it ready for spring planting, we walk back to the young orchard. We planted nearly two dozen fruit trees back there and it has been such a hands-on experiment for us to watch them grow! For two years, the trees were attacked by deer. Finally Ed set to work on building cages for them. The trees are growing now, despite the early years of damage. We are so thrilled with their "can do" attitude!
We spend a productive hour pruning the branches, hoping that doing this on a warm February day is a good rather than totally foolish thing.
Part III A Walk Before Sunset
I spent just about all my childhood summers in my grandparents' home in the deep Polish rural countryside. When I was little, I mostly played in the yard of course. But very quickly, I looked beyond the fenced yard. The river, the meadows, the forests -- they became my playground.
And not surprisingly, I was granted a lot of freedom early on. In the (American) suburbs, you need your parents and their car(s) to get you places. In the more remote villages of Poland, we had neither the paved roads nor the cars to get us places. We walked. A lot.
My sister and I often teamed up with other kids from adjacent homes to do an evening walk just before the sun reached its final dip to the west of us. These walks were so important to my adolescent sensibilities that I remember to this day the light, the quiet, the color, the peace that we felt then.
And so you wont be surprised that when today, as Ed finished up work with the rental loader machine and I walked the rural roads, I was reminded of that special light, not February light, but evening light, nearly sunset light, Polish light, familiar light that seeped in with that beautiful predusk quiet that I associate so much with the fields and meadows of Poland.
(Fields just to the east and north of us...)
(Nearly sunset...)
So goodnight, Sunday. Goodnight crazy warm weekend. So bold. So beautiful!
